Playing With Fire
by ValkyrieNyght
Summary: Garcia was never caught by the FBI for hacking. She's stayed underground. Now she has to somehow prove that she isn't her brother's killer while hiding the fact that she is a notorious hacker. Meanwhile, the BAU is hot on her tail.
1. So Set the Spark

Disclaimer: I do not own Criminal Minds. I do however own this particular idea.

AN: _I think it's safe to say that the only reason that this story even exists is because the lovely __klcm __practically dared me to write it because she wouldn't use the idea of Garcia reverting back to her hacker ways. I wanted to explore what it could be like if Garcia was a full blown hacker. She said something along the lines of "Write it yourself!" – To which I replied "Fine!" What follows is the result of that brief and yet brilliant conversation, and yeah, it has totally taken on a life of its own. My bad. _

_To __klcm__: In a completely non-creepy way, this story is kind of dedicated to you because without you this story would not exist. So thanks. _

**Playing With Fire**

Penelope Garcia was willing to accept that sometimes the world just flat out refused to make sense. She accepted that sometimes life did whatever possible to get in your way, and that while it may be dismal, it was not an excuse to not enjoy as much in life as you possibly could. She knew that it was best to accept what was given to you…and then take whatever was missing. She was a devout optimist, and yet she had seen far too many hardships in her life to not be a realist as well. But more than anything, she believed that everything happened for a reason. That philosophy had stood tried and true throughout her entire adult life until about…well, yesterday.

Before yesterday there were only four people in the whole world who knew her name, her real name. She hadn't seen them in over ten years but had always managed to keep tabs on them. It wasn't particularly hard, her brothers had next to no skills when it came to cyber anonymity. No, Penelope hadn't felt like a part of anything, much less a family in a long time. But, the fact remained that her brothers were the only ones who'd known that she'd even existed, and that alone kept her loyalty to them intact. And up until about a week ago, all four of them had been alive.

"_Preston….oh God…he's dead because of me."_Penelope may not have pulled the trigger, but she knew where the blame would fall. There was a whole task force more than willing to convict her. They were all convinced by an overwhelming amount of amazingly planted evidence that pointed toward her being a killer. What really made this situation impossible was the fact that the only way she could clear her name from one crime was to admit to others, a whole bunch of others. Penelope wasn't her brother's killer, she was the one that'd pissed his killer off, and that was why he was dead. The only reason she was here now was because she hadn't covered her tracks well enough.

Now she sat in an interrogation room that had taken all of about two minutes for her to decide that it was pretty much the most boring room ever. She looked around at the barren walls, pausing briefly on the one way window, the two hard backed chairs, the lightweight and yet incredibly sturdy table. All around, the room felt like it was designed to just suck the life out of a person.

"_Isn't that pretty much the point."_ She thought to herself. She shifted in her chair, trying to get comfortable – it was a losing battle.

She didn't feel dead though, not with SSA Derek Morgan sitting across from her. He had been sitting across from her for the better part of two hours laying out all the evidence stacked against her, trying to make her confess to murder. Penelope was having trouble paying attention though, she was trying hard not to undress him with her eyes. She couldn't help herself, it wasn't often that she found herself alone, in a room, with a hot example of perfection, all the time in the world…and probably a whole hoard of brass on the other side of the window watching her every move. That thought helped douse some of the particularly naughty thoughts she had swimming around in her head…. thoughts that revolved around him, a bowl of strawberries and an epic lack of clothing. Yeah, her sense of self-preservation was currently on hiatus. Thankfully the object of her affection chose that moment to start speaking again.

"We know that you contacted Preston and that you met with your brother two days before he was killed. We have witnesses that saw you two have an argument, a very vocal and heated argument – in public. We found the murder weapon in your car. On top of that we caught you at the crime scene Penelope…after you had broken into it. That screams guilty Garcia."

"No. You're making it sound like I killed him. I didn't. I didn't kill Preston." She stated flatly.

"Oh really," Morgan replied conversationally "And how do you plan on convincing me of that?"

"With my magnetic personality and killer smile." She replied hopefully with a half grin.

"Forgive me for not being convinced."

"I had a perfectly good reason to be in his apartment last night Handsome. I'd just rather not tell it to you." It was like being caught between a rock and a hard spot. Yes, breaking into Preston's apartment wasn't the best of plans, but at that point she had been running out of options. The plan had been simple, drop in, check a few things off of her cybernetic To-Do List via a connection that would lead to a dead end, and leave before anyone knew the wiser. A simple plan, but at the same time, apparently looked a lot like someone returning to the scene of a crime, and even more apparently, that was frowned upon. How was she supposed to know that the place had been staked out by the FBI?

"Garcia, no one can help you if you don't talk. The way I see it, you really don't have much of a choice. It's not like you're going anywhere anytime soon. " Derek Morgan growled, gesturing to her hand that was handcuffed to the table. Penelope followed his gaze down to her wrist and just shrugged.

"I'll admit it. This isn't the way I was envisioned starting a charm bracelet. A whole table is just a bit much don't ya' think Hot Stuff?"

Morgan had the grace to look a flustered. Garcia tried to hold in a giggle, it was a cute look on him.

Morgan quickly schooled his expression. There was no way he could admit to the blonde in front of him just how much she was getting to him. Her constant use of nicknames and innuendos was really unnerving. He'd never met an Unsub whose tactics involved shameless flirting and a smile. It threw him off, the Unsub wasn't supposed to make you want to laugh at her jokes. They weren't supposed to look like a bombshell either. He had to remind himself that she was the "bad guy", that she could ruin people's lives. She probably already had. Penelope Garcia was dangerous, oh so dangerous. She was as cold as ice, which was an irony in itself because he felt like he was playing with fire.


	2. The Temperature's Rising

_AN: So it seems that I am unable to write a story from start to finish. I have to write it out of order and post it in the right one. So good news is, the ending is done – the bad news, the middle is…well - not. _

_I can't express to you how excited I was with all the alerts and favorites. That was an unexpected cookie. So thank you!_

_AN2: I don't own Criminal Minds, I do own this particular chunk of plot though._

_~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~PLAYING WITH FIRE~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~_

_October 2004_

SSA Aaron Hotchner liked to think that he had seen a good portion of what the darker side of humanity had to offer. He had experienced up close what a delusional mind was capable of, how dangerous an obsession could become, and how much damage one Unsub could do. After profiling hundreds of Unsubs, and sitting through just as many interrogations, he liked to think that he was particularly good at catching one in a lie. It wasn't particularly hard; you just had to pay attention. They all had the same indicators, shifting eyes, the inability to sit still for long, a nervous tick of some sort, and they almost always showed emotion in all the wrong ways. With all of his experience Hotchner liked to think that he was good at his job. He was rarely thrown or confused, and never both at the same time, but he was coming to realize that there was a first time for everything.

His team had been called to San Francisco when the murder of Preston Garcia had been linked to two other unsolved cases. No leads had been created from the victimology. The first victim, Victor Benson, had been a harbormaster in San Diego. He was shot in his home, in what looked like a home-invasion in July 2003. The second victim, Maria Torrez, had been a mid-ranking employee of a large computer software company based in northern Utah. She was found dead in her office four months later. Preston Garcia had been mechanic in San Francisco and was found dead in his apartment by his sister. All had been shot in the head with the same weapon. The only other thing that had linked the first two was an unusual signature. Before vanishing into the night, the Unsub took the SIM card from their cell phones and wiped the hardrive of each of the victims personal and work computers after closing any kind of account that the victim had; which made it almost impossible for anyone in the FBI's technical analyst pool to track the actions of the victims before they had died. There had been no witnesses and none of the victim's acquaintances had noticed anything strange. With no other leads, the team hadn't been able to make up a complete profile, and the case had been moved to the back burner.

When ballistics reports of Preston Garcia's murder had been linked to the first two murders it had once again sprung to the forefront. The BAU knew that they were dealing with a highly organized Unsub who exhibited control of themselves before, during, and after the kill. The very nature of the kills, execution style shots to the head, and the meticulous cleansing of the victims electronic devices afterwards told them two things; one, that this Unsub was a highly intelligent male with a vast working knowledge of computers, and two; this Unsub meant business. Nothing was left to chance or left unfinished. However, it was obvious that something had interrupted the Unsub this time, because the victim's computer hadn't been tampered with, and in the eyes of the members of the B.A.U. that presented an opportunity. They had quickly worked with the local police to set up surveillance of Preston Garcia's apartment, knowing that the Unsub would be compelled to come and finish the job. In an odd stroke of luck, they didn't have to wait for very long before someone spotted someone breaking in. Hotch and the rest of the team had quickly moved in after that. After crashing through the door it hadn't surprised Hotch to find the Unsub in front of Garcia's computer. He wasn't even fazed when the Unsub gave up without a fight; a gun to the face had that kind of effect on most people. What completely floored him was the fact that the face belonged to a woman, and that this woman looked exactly like the victim. Hotch was willing to believe that they had made a mistake until he heard the computer behind Penelope Garcia chirp informing them all that the hardrive of Preston Garcia's computer had just been purged.

"She's either innocent, or the best liar I've ever encountered." Coming from SSA Aaron Hotchner, that was saying something.

"She's …..flirting."

"No Reid, she's deflecting. She's trying to turn all the focus to Morgan and therefore away from herself and the matter at hand. She's being smart about it though. Instead of being malicious about it, she's actually….charming."

"Yeah, but to what end?" Morgan asked as he walked into the room. Rubbing a hand over his face, he moved over to the window to look at the object of their collective fascination. "Garcia doesn't act like any Unsub I've ever encountered."

"I don't know yet. Something's not right though. She's all over the place." Hotch replied.

"Her reactions were rather sporadic, but they didn't come across as fake to me." Morgan sighed. He had interviewed her earlier that same day. _"From interview to interrogation." _He thought. During the interview she had seemed genuinely upset at her brother's death. She still was and had been truly shocked when he had informed her that the murder weapon had been found inside her car. They had found the murder weapon in her car yes, but even with that, most of the evidence was circumstantial, and from the look in her eyes she knew it too. If that was true, then why hadn't she asked for a lawyer yet? He asked himself.

She was upholding her innocence, but she wasn't really trying to defend herself either. She wouldn't give them a proper alibi, not one that could be verified anyway. She had stated that she had been staying with her brother, but there wasn't any evidence in his apartment to uphold that. What stuck out the most for Morgan though was how upbeat Penelope remained. Rather than try to defend herself, she chose to ….well, to put it bluntly, she tried to hit on him. And to his complete and utter horror, he found himself wanting to return the favor.

Reid gazed through the window. He quickly thought over the statistics of female Unsubs and their usual habits. The woman sitting in the other room defied every single one of them. She didn't even look like a possible Unsub, not that that ever mattered he remembered. But there was something about her and the way she looked that was off and he couldn't put his finger on it. Regardless of what she said, she looked lonely….and sad…almost defeated. He was still relatively new to the team, and could relate to that. Joining the BAU had put him in a completely different environment. Between the new place and the completely alien situation he had clung to any shred of normal that he could get. It had taken time to get comfortable and find his place among the team, but he had fought for it. He had fought for it….and Penelope Garcia wasn't.

"Guys, lambs don't usually lay themselves down for slaughter. I think we're missing something here."

"Reid, what are you talking about?"

Before he could say anything, Hotch's cell phone began to ring; he stepped away to answer it.

"Think about it Morgan. Since when does an Unsub deny their involvement and then do absolutely nothing to prove their innocence? Right now we can't prove that she killed Garcia or any of the other victims for that matter, all we have is her having contact with her brother before he died and a wiped hard drive."

"True, but we have the murder weapon that we found in a car registered in her name too." Morgan shot back.

"Yes, but even with that, it's still a long way away from murder." Hotch said as he closed his phone. "I think you're right Reid. There is something bigger at play here."

"Was that the tech pool?" Morgan asked. He braced himself, judging from the look on his bosses face, they didn't have good news. He would be willing to put money on it.

"Yes, and unfortunately all they gave us was more questions." Hotch said forbiddingly, "Apparently they are having difficulty proving that Penelope Garcia even exists."

"What's that supposed to mean – she's sitting not ten feet from us." cried Morgan. Oh yeah, definitely should have put money on that one.

"Besides a driver's license that she got when she was 18, there is no record of a Penelope Garcia anywhere. It's like she fell off the face of the earth. She only resurfaced a week ago when she and her brother reunited. They did however, find at least four other names that could be connected to her." Hotch replied.

"Could be….?" Reid repeated.

"Yes, could be. She's a ghost. They couldn't find anything to solidly connect Penelope, or any of the other names to her, or her brothers. The only reason we know they are related is because she looks just like the victim."

They looked through the window at the suddenly much more mysterious woman and thought _"What are you hiding Penelope Garcia?" _


	3. More Fuel to the Fire

_AN: So, let's discuss how hard this chapter was to write. Seriously, this one was a bitch. That being said – if you all think this chapter stinks – I apologize in advance. However, if you think it smells better than crap – you have my undying gratitude. _

_Just so you know; I'm not going to withhold posting like some authors do. Once I finish a chapter – it goes up. I'm not one to hold my story(ies) hostage if no one reviews them. But, I would really really really like it if you left me one. _

_Quick note: All the Garcia's can speak French. I'm plan on having fun with this tidbit later. But for now, all you need to know is that __**Je t'aime**__ means "I love you."_

_Kthxbye!_

_-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-_

…_.Three little profilers, sittin' in a tree, P-R-O-F-I-L-I-N-G…..._

It was official – they were stumped. It went without saying that they didn't like being that way.

"We need to take another look at everything. There's something at that apartment that we missed. _–That was the understatement of the YEAR - _Morgan, Reid – I want you to go back there and try to find something that will….just see what you can find."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to track down the next-of-kin. Preston Garcia has three other brothers. Hopefully, one of them will be willing to tell us what the Unsub isn't."

"Cool. I'm driving Reid."

"Hey, you got to drive last time Morgan."

"That may be true Kid, but I want to get there sometime this week. Now hand over them keys."

Hotch watched as the two continued arguing back and forth on their way to the door. They were…bantering. He'd never seen them so upbeat before while on a case. There was either something in the water – or their Unsub was getting to his team in an unexpectedly good way.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

They stood just inside the front door looking in at all that remained of Preston Garcia. Looking around, Reid doubted that the place should even be classified as an apartment; it was more like a hole in the wall. It was apparent that the man had lived alone, and that he hadn't been all that materialistic. What little furniture was there was comfortable, functional, and looked like it had seen better days. At some point, someone had managed to tack a calendar on the wall, but other than that the walls were bare. The whole place screamed _"bachelor pad."_ It also screamed _"I don't like to spend a lot of time here." _

"I kind of get the feeling that the victim didn't like to spend a whole lot of time here."

"Yeah, no kidding." Taking a quick moment to brace himself, Morgan walked further inside. He would never admit it, but walking into a crime scene still managed to creep him out a little bit. Whether it was something as simple as the bed being unmade or dishes left in the sink; it was all overwhelming evidence that the victims had had no idea that they were going to die that day. This time was no different. He opened the fridge and found it nearly empty; only the bare essentials inside.

"Beer and mustard, but he's got just about every kind of take out menu imaginable taped to the outside." He commented.

"That would explain why there's no dishes. Actually the whole place looks pretty clean." Reid thought aloud.

Morgan just nodded in reply and moved to the bedroom. It was true; the bed was made, and there was a stack of laundry that had been washed and folded recently sitting on top of it. He could see evidence that someone had passed a vacuum over the carpet in the last couple of days; and someone had also dusted. Overall, it looked like the showcase of hovels.

Reid moved over to lone bookshelf sitting beside the computer. The top two shelves were completely filled with nothing but Popular Mechanics® magazines and car parts catalogs. The third shelf had a few hardback mystery novels and a few French titles that Reid didn't recognize tucked around the one photo sitting on the shelf. It was a picture of the Garcia family. Reid quickly remembered the facts of the case; the victim's parents had been killed by a drunk driver soon after the Unsub had turned 18. The picture must have been taken just before the accident because the seven people in the photo all had smiling faces, with not a care in the world. Placing the photo back, he continued to scan the book titles when he noticed a small leather bound book tucked behind the others. It looked old, well used, and completely out of place. If that wasn't enough, it had a large glittery heart sticker shamelessly slapped on the front. There was a message written haphazardly on the inside cover by what looked like a child; _- Hapy dirfday Bigg Brothr! Je t'aime! XOXO Penelope - _ Reid couldn't help but smile, but it quickly turned into a scowl when he flipped the first few pages over.

"Morgan, I think I found something." Reid called out.

"What ya got?"

"This book has been hollowed out. It's got … a bunch of birthday cards inside. All of them are from the same person,… Angela Coppiere. Strange though…they're all addressed to someone named Craig Paterson."

"What's that in the bottom?"

Reid scooped the cards into his hand. "It's a cell phone."

Morgan picked up the cell phone and turned it on. The call log was empty. "There's only one number programmed into this phone."

"There a name?"

"It just says I.C.E. – it's an emergency contact number."

Reid continued sifting through the cards while Morgan called the tech pool in Quantico to run a trace on the listed number. Near the bottom of the stack was a single newspaper clipping, the headline read "**No Leads in Rainbowbrite Hacker Case."** Reid quickly put his 20,000 wpm skills to use. It was a small article describing how someone had briefly taken control of the San Francisco Chronicles webpage and decorated it with Rainbowbrite characters. It mentioned that though benign, the hack was very complex and had taken experts a week to debug. It ended with a plea for citizens with any information to come forward.

Morgan had just hung up from his conversation with the tech pool when his phone rang. He quickly glanced at the number before answering. "Yeah Hotch."

"Morgan, I managed to contact the victim's older brother and he's agreed to meet with us. Did you find anything over there?"

"Yeah, actually I think we did. I don't think our Unsub was the only one that kept secrets."

The last part caught Hotch by surprise. He was really starting to hate surprises. "Why? What did you find?"

"More mysteries," Morgan sighed before he continued; "We found a cell phone with an I.C.E. number in it and a weird collection of cards hidden in a book."

"Alright, bring it back with you. Hopefully it will give us something to work with. The next Garcia should be here by tomorrow morning."

"We're on our way."

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"I really hate question marks."

Morgan looked over at his boss in shock. That comment was so out of character for the man that was standing in front of him that he couldn't help but respond with the first thing that came to mind. "Really? I always figured you would be more of an exclamation point kind of guy."

Hotch narrowed his eyes at Morgan. "I don't think that even deserves an answer."

Morgan smiled. The quick banter was both needed and appreciated. The three profilers had been staring at the evidence board for awhile shooting ideas back and forth. The tech pool had called back with the origin of the I.C.E. number; it was listed to Angela Coppiere, but there was no address or additional paper trail to track after that. They had been talking in circles for the past hour and all they could agree on was that the mystery surrounding this case kept getting bigger and bigger with each look. What they needed was a break, both literally and in the case.

Stifling a yawn, Morgan stood up to stretch. "I'm gonna go get some coffee. You want some Kid?"

Reid looked over his shoulder with raised eyebrows. "Do you really need to ask?"

Morgan rolled his eyes and headed out the door. "That's a yes then, Hotch?"

"I'll come with you. I need to move around a bit."

Hotch and Morgan came back twenty minutes later to find Reid enthusiastically scribbling all over a white board. The mystery names from the birthday cards had been written and scratched out alongside the names of the Unsub and the victim.

"Uh…Reid?"

"Guys, I think figured it out." Reid blurted excitedly, completely missing the bewildered looks Morgan and Hotch were shooting at him. "This book I found at the victim's apartment; it looks like it was meant to be a journal of some kind. I think the Unsub gave this to the victim when they were younger, the message inside says that it's from Penelope. Then I started looking at the names on the birthday cards. They're anagrams. If you rearrange the name Craig Paterson, it turns into Preston Garcia. And if you do the same thing to Angela Coppiere you get Penelope Garcia."

Morgan leaned against the table. "Okay, it's a completely normal thing to send your sibling a birthday card. Why change the names?

"I think it has something to do with this article that I found with the cards. It talks about an attack on the firewall of a local newspaper's website. This article is dated 1997, which is just before the victim's parents were killed and the Unsub fell off the radar soon after that."

"So what are you're saying Reid, that Garcia was the hacker back in 97'?"

"Yeah, and given how evasive she has been, I'd say that she still is one."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "That would explain why she won't give an alibi. She probably can't give one without incriminating herself."

Morgan looked back at the board. "So what do you get when you put fake names, cybernetic forensic countermeasures and three murders together?"

You got a hacker whose agenda spilled over into the physical world.


End file.
